Fie, Fie, How Frantically I Square My

But As The Unthought-on Accident Is Guilty To What We Wildly Do, So We Profess Ourselves To Be The Slaves Of Chance, And Flies Of Every Wind That Blows.

What Is Aught But As 'tis Valued?

All's Well That Ends Well; Still The Fine's The Crown. Whate'er The Course, The End Is The Renown.

I Have Had A Most Rare Vision. I Have Had A Dream, Past The Wit Of Man To Say What Dream It Was.

A Very Scurvy Fellow.